


Once Upon A Wedding Night

by pianomanblaine



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianomanblaine/pseuds/pianomanblaine
Summary: In the Phantom's lair, Christine makes her choice: to save Raoul by marrying Erik. What will their wedding night bring?
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	Once Upon A Wedding Night

Erik stood in front of the door to her bedroom. She was in there. Christine. His Christine. His wife.

You test my patience. Make your choice. 

He hadn’t truly expected her to say yes. After all the terrible things he had done, why would she ever agree to become his wife? Then again, he had threatened to kill that boy, that pathetic little puppy who claimed to love her, and he knew she would never let that happen. She had sacrificed her freedom, bound herself to a monster, to save him. She still loved him. But no, Erik couldn’t dwell on that. He had plenty of time to torture himself with those thoughts later. What mattered now was that she was here, in his house, waiting for him. Her husband.

Taking one more deep breath, he knocked on the door. A soft “come in” followed and he entered the room. Christine was sitting on the stool in front of her vanity table, facing the door, clad in her night dress and dressing gown. She had let her hair loose, the brown curls spilling over her back and shoulders, and the few candles around the room cast a soft golden glow over her face. She was without a doubt the most beautiful picture he had ever beheld. And she was his.

He stood there, not saying anything, just staring at her, the fingers of his right hand beating an irregular rhythm against his thigh the only outward sign of the effect her mere presence had on him. Although having her so near, knowing that she wasn’t going anywhere, was all he’d dreamed of for so long, it also unnerved him. Now that she was finally here to stay, he didn’t know what to do. The Phantom of the Opera, always so utterly in control, was now feeling rather out of his depth. 

As the silence continued, Christine looked away from him and pulled her dressing gown tighter against her chest.   
“Are you cold?” Erik asked. He couldn’t have his wife being cold. He couldn’t have her feeling any sort of discomfort at all. “I can stir the fire for you if you like.” He was already turning towards the fireplace when Christine spoke. “No, that’s alright, I’m warm enough, thank you.” He would have accepted her assurance and left it at that, if he hadn’t turned back to her, noticing the shiver running through her at that same moment.   
“Then why are you shivering?”  
When Christine looked away from him and fixed her eyes on the carpet beneath her feet, not answering his question, he realized there could only be one other reason.   
“Are you frightened of me?”  
“No, of course not,” she replied, but the slight trembling of her voice and her refusal to look him in the eye told him everything her words would not. She was afraid. Scared of the monster. The realization felt like a knife piercing his chest.

He knelt down in front of her, gently putting his finger under her chin and lifting it until she was meeting his gaze. She didn’t flinch away at the physical contact, so maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to put things right. “You never need to be afraid of me, I promise. I love you, Christine. The only thing I want is to make you happy.” He spoke in barely more than a whisper as he added, “if you will let me.” 

“I’m not afraid of you, Erik.” She didn’t look away from his face as she said it, so at least he knew she was speaking the truth.  
“Then what is it, my dear?” The endearment fell from his lips before he’d realized, but he found that even if he had been able to take it back, he didn’t want to. He had called her by it before, he was sure, but it was always tinged with a hint of sarcasm, of anger or frustration. Now, for the first time, the words sounded right.   
“It’s only… “ Now she did look away, letting her hands fall in her lap to start fiddling with the fabric of her dressing gown. “Will it hurt?”  
He watched her in confusion. “What do you mean, Christine? Will what hurt?”  
It took her a while to find the courage to clarify. She kept staring at her hands, as if she was incapable of speaking the words while looking him in the eye. “When you… make love to me?”  
He almost asked her to repeat it. She’d spoken so softly, for a moment he thought he’d misheard. When the meaning of her words sank in, he pulled back from her quickly, feeling as if he’d been slapped in the face. She thought he was here to claim his husbandly rights. To make love to her. No, making love implied the feeling of affection was mutual, which could not possibly be the case. No, she thought he was here to lay his hands on her against her will, to… He couldn’t even think the word. How could he ever do that to her? He was a monster, yes, he’d done many unspeakable things, taken pleasure in them, even, that much was true, but could she really believe him to be such a demon that he would abuse her that way?

“Christine, look at me, please.” He was careful not to make it sound as a command, although he was well aware that he could use his voice in such a manner that she would obey without a second thought. He needn’t have worried. She met his gaze willingly. He moved as if to take her hands in his, to comfort her, to offer assurance, but thought better of it in the end. His touch would most likely not be welcome right now. “Christine…” Her name sounded like a prayer on his lips. “Christine, please believe me, I could never… I would never assume… I swear to you that I will never touch you that way unless you ask me to.” To be fair, he didn’t think she ever would ask him to, but maybe it was not too late to start believing in miracles. She had agreed to marry him, after all.

The moment of silence that followed his declaration seemed almost unbearable, but then she let out a big breath, her body relaxed and her hands stopped their fumbling in her lap. She believed him. Good. He didn’t think he had ever felt more relieved. She was grateful, that much he could tell from the look on her face, but there was something else there as well, something he couldn’t quite put a name to. Could it be… a hint of disappointment? No, no, surely not. He must have been imagining it. It must have been his own distorted mind playing tricks on him. 

When Christine didn’t say anything else, Erik rose from his place at her feet. “Very well then, if there’s nothing else I can do for you, I will bid you goodnight.” He was not particularly looking forward to spending his wedding night on his own. Of course he had hoped… but that was ridiculous. No one could ever want to have a normal wedding night with someone like him. His attentions were clearly unwanted, and he would never force himself on her. With one last glance at her, hoping to convey all the love and adoration he felt for her without actually having to say the words, he turned around and was halfway to the door, when the sound of her angel’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait.” He did. He would wait an eternity, simply standing right there for the rest of his life, if she asked it of him. “Would you…” When she didn’t finish her sentence, he slowly turned towards her. She was standing now, wringing her hands, obviously nervous again. “Yes, Christine?” He tried not to let that glimmer of hope he felt shine through in his voice.   
“You could stay. If you want.” Hearing his sharp intake of breath and noticing his eyes widen in surprise, she hastened to add, “Not to… I mean, to sleep. You could sleep here tonight.”   
He stared at her, studying her face, trying to decipher what he saw there. Was it a flicker of hope? He had to clear his throat before he could answer. “Do you want me to?”  
She was only quiet for a short moment before she replied, her voice surprisingly clear and determined. “Yes.”

Could it be that simple? Could she really want him to stay? Could she actually want him beside her while she slept? He didn’t know what drove her to offer him this extraordinary kindness, but he was too selfish not to take it.   
“Very well.” She met his gaze then, seemingly surprised at his easy acceptance, but at the same time almost… pleased?

There was a change in the atmosphere. The tension between them appeared to lessen, but things became slightly awkward instead. Christine turned away from him, taking of her dressing gown and draping it across the stool she had been sitting on earlier. He realized then he should probably get ready for bed as well, but had no idea what to do. He usually didn’t sleep much, and on the rare occasions he did, he either dressed down to his undergarments or didn’t bother to undress at all. Neither of those scenarios struck him as appropriate in his current situation, so instead he decided to take of his shoes and his waistcoat. He’d sleep in his trousers and shirt. That seemed like an acceptable compromise. 

When he was finished undressing, he noticed Christine was already in bed, the covers pulled up almost all the way to her chin. He hastened to join her. He was careful to keep as much distance between them as possible, for his benefit as well as hers. Her presence so close to him was intoxicating and he couldn’t risk losing control. As he reclined next to her, stiff as a board, hardly daring to move at all for fear she would change her mind, Christine whispered, “You can remove the mask, if it makes you more comfortable.” The incredulity he felt must have shown on his face, because she added, “I’ve seen your face several times now, and I meant what I said earlier. Your face truly holds no horror for me anymore.” 

What had he ever done to deserve this woman? This beautiful, brave, compassionate creature who would willingly bear the agony of gazing at his monstrous face? He longed to take her up on her offer. His skin got terribly itchy after a while, and sleeping with the mask on really was rather disagreeable, but he didn’t want to see the look on her face when his deformity was the first thing she saw when she woke in the morning. So he told her he’d rather keep it on, and God bless her, she didn’t ask any questions, just accepted his answer.

They were both quiet after that. Sleep would not come easily though. Erik was unable to relax, very much aware of Christine’s presence next to him, not willing to move a muscle lest he frightened her. In the end, it was his brave little wife who closed the distance between them, lightly draping her arm across his chest and nestling her head on his shoulder, whispering that it was okay, he could hold her if he wanted to. It wasn’t until then that Erik seemed to be able to breathe again. Ever so gently, he rested his hand on top of hers on his chest, wrapping his other arm around her. He started to comb his fingers through her hair (something he’d dreamed of doing far more often than he cared to admit), so softly at first that she could barely feel it at all.   
“Is this alright?” he asked, because he had to be sure. She had done so much for him already, first by agreeing to be his wife and now by granting him this, that he couldn’t bear to take any more from her that she was not willing to give.   
"Yes,” she murmured, and hearing her little sigh of contentment made his heart soar. His wife was here, sharing a bed with him, allowing him to touch her, and she didn’t hate him for it!

That night, for the first time in years, Erik slept long and peacefully.


End file.
